


Invitation and Dissociation

by untitIed



Category: Silent Hill
Genre: Depression, Desperation, Dissociation, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Pain, Pre-Canon, Pre-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 01:48:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2563790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/untitIed/pseuds/untitIed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James arrives in Silent Hill and feels overwhelmed by the weight of the events in his life. Written as an homage to my battles with dissociate episodes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invitation and Dissociation

When James Sunderland had become cognizant of the skin on the palms of his hands Mary's car had already rolled to a stop. He recognized that the pasty flesh gripping the steering wheel of the car belonged to him, but like a memory sinking deep into one’s subconscious he struggled to recall exactly how to feel it as part of the rest of his greasy corporeal form. The tired eyed man sat patiently as he waited for his mind to collect rest of his body. During times like this, the blurry haze that was his consciousness would melt into a somewhat sweet sedative state. It was a feeling of being asleep yet somewhat awake, an existence akin to an amoeba that cannot think or feel, only do. Outside the small automobile, the thick fog curled itself around the car, shadowing the nearby environment but leaving lights from distant buildings visible from the windshield. The presence was like a force, clawing for it’s newest visitor and enticing James to come hither. The heavy atmosphere caused a surge of energy slowly seep it’s way down his frame. He leaned forward in his seat.

“Mary?”

His eyes widened and he felt the sensation from his cold, dark lower lids. Layers of tingling discomfort rolled under James’ hands, as if his organs were trying to pump life into the dead. James peeled his hands away from the dry sweat that had accumulated between him and the steering wheel and clumsily pushed open the car door, his mishandled motor skills accidentally resulting in the shoving of the rest of himself outside. His face collided with the asphalt and the scattered gravel tore the rest of his clothed skin around in unpleasant ways. A sharp pain that was not quite enough to indicate any bleeding wafted through him. The sudden amalgamation of sensations caused his heart to race and the rest of him to become rather still. He silently absorbed and adjusted to this new state. It had been a while since James had felt something even a sliver of a degree of that impact.

An on looker would likely write him off as ill, strange or creepy. 

With a few specks of dirt stuck to his face, he stood up. Disorientation was the first bath to wash over him. The town seemed less foggy on the outside of his automobile, which confused but did not bother him. The lights from afar were still present and that was all that mattered. Cautiously looking around, James weakly started to feel nostalgic. Instances of his previous visit with Mary oozed in and out of his mind. He reflexively cracked a smile. The feelings from those days were still etched into him. The parts he could remember were lush and vivid. Their time on the boat, in the hotel, even in the gift shop, and her beautiful face... 

Was that really what happened?

“I don’t see why it wouldn't have been.” James chimed out of the blue, trying to keep himself as engaged as possible. His brain irritantly started flickering with pain and the fog began to thicken, cradling him in it’s cold moistness. He shook his head as nausea mildly bubbled. His skin felt like a foreign object wrapped around a restless manifestation of pain wanting to break free. With great precision he managed to spill into the public washroom he had parked Mary’s car lopsidedly outside of.

The sensitive widow splashed water over his face, baptizing himself of the sickness that was weighing him down. He wrestled with the hot and then the lukewarm water before finding a temperature cold enough to make his body fight for warmth, for life-for living in the real world. James pressed his wet hands against his face. He took in the formerly perplexing feeling that attached him to his steering wheel as water trickled in the spaces between the two down to his chin. He stood still for a moment in the thick of the overwhelming situation, wet faced and confusingly empty, and cried without crying. He released his face from his grasp and looked at himself in the dark, dingy mirror of the public restroom.

“Mary,” James breathed, coordinating himself to the best of his ability for the sake of his wife “I hope when I see you-if I see you-, we can both return to the world in your restless dreams.”


End file.
